Identity Crisis, and other stories
by cygnus1123
Summary: A collection of oneshots and short chapter fics I've written about this show. There's sort of a theme about identity and self-discovery for some of these chapters, though they aren't necessarily connected.
1. Identity Crisis: Scoops

Hey, I'm back! I know I pretty much abandoned my last fic, and I'm sorry about that. I don't really see myself finishing that story, to be honest - I made a bunch of mistakes in it which I don't think I can fix, and I've moved on to other ideas since then.

... And here are those ideas! Instead of spamming this place with a bunch of short stories, I've decided to just publish them all as chapters in this fic. Some of the chapters in longer stories may not be consecutive (sorry), but I'll make sure to name chapters so you can tell which ones are connected to others and which ones aren't, using 'part 1/2/etc'.

There's sort of a main theme going on here (identity/discovering onself), but chapters labeled 'Identity Crisis' aren't necessarily related.

I'd love to hear any comments and (constructive) criticism you guys have for me!

* * *

Three days had passed since Scoops found out her identity, and he _still_ wasn't out of questions. He was asking them before school, after school, during her battles, sometimes even _during recess around their classmates_ , and he still. Wasn't. Finished. When he said he had a million questions, it seemed that he really had meant it.

Eventually, Becky had just decided to dedicate an entire Saturday to finishing up the questions he had for her. She refused to answer any more of them until then (much to his frustration), and when the day came, she took him to her hideout so they could be certain that no one would overhear them.

* * *

Scoops was already sort of familiar with the main control room, but the reality of the situation - he was inside WordGirl's secret hideout and _finally able to get the full inside scoop and also the first reporter to do so in the city_ \- still left him a bit stunned. He slowly took in the hideout as he wandered over to a seat, trying to memorize every detail as if he would never get the chance to see the ship again.

Despite the fact that Scoops had seen his friend transform into WordGirl twice now, watching her casually take off her helmet and set it down on the ship's giant control panel still sent a jolt through him. He blinked a couple times, willing himself to merge the city's beloved alien superheroine and his good friend in his mind.

The two people did eventually unite into one, and that person was saying something and looking at him expectantly.

"Oh, right!" Scoops said, opening his notebook frantically and flipping through to find the next blank page. "So, uh - how long have you been able to use your freeze breath?"

"Since Miss Power arrived here and taught me about it," WordGirl - no, Becky - (oh, this was confusing!) replied instantly.

"Speaking of which, was Miss Power from the same planet as you?"

"I think you've asked me this before, but… no, I don't believe so. Lexiconians have word powers and tend to wear the planet's official colors, and Miss Power displayed neither."

"Have you ever been to Lexicon, Bec - ugh!" Scoops stopped and, frustrated, tried a different question. "What should I call you, Word - Beck… y?"

That earned a lengthy pause. "Whatever you want," she answered finally. She shrugged, glancing from her discarded helmet to her friend's face. "I'm not Becky pretending to be a superhero, and I'm not WordGirl pretending to be a civilian. They're both me."

* * *

For the first time since the day Becky had revealed her identity, what she said wasn't immediately met with another question; looking up, she saw that Scoops was staring at her with a perplexed expression, like he had been a few minutes ago. Then his eyes widened for a moment, just before he dissolved into laughter.

"What?" she asked, confused at the outburst.

"You – all this time – it was _you_ ," Scoops said, struggling to get words out between laughs.

"… Yes?" Becky said, raising an eyebrow. She watched him quickly stand up from his chair and start to pace back and forth.

"All of those times when you were so set on figuring out where villains would strike next – I just thought you were interested in journalism! And the prank you pulled on me after _Whoopsie 7_ – that was you – I mean, actually _WordGirl_ , who _is_ you, but I thought it was just you in a costume, but it - it _was_! Hah! This is amazing!"

Becky listened to her friend's enlightened rant with growing amusement. He started pacing faster, at one point dropping off his notepad on the control panel.

"And all those years that you dressed up as WordGirl for Halloween - that's why you always refused to wear the helmet, because that was the _actual WordGirl outfit_ and… well, no wonder you used to win like, every year. Isn't that cheating?" She shrugged, but he took no notice, as his mind had already moved on.

"And… oh, that's why you were so offended when I said that WordGirl gets tricked by villains easily. I just thought you were secretly a super-fan, or something. Which didn't make any sense, because you never went to your brother's fanclub meetings… was it weird, having your brother be the president of a fanclub about you? I guess it would be kinda weird."

She opened her mouth, ready to respond to his question, but another thought popped into his mind and out of his mouth before she had the chance. "And that vocabulary bee a year or so ago, that you got second place in because you couldn't define the word 'perfect'… you failed on purpose, because of me." Stopping in front of his chair, Scoops let out an overwhelmed laugh. " _Wow_."

Becky felt a fresh wave of annoyance wash over her at the memory. "I still haven't quite forgiven you for that," she muttered.

"Sorry," he said. But the apologetic look on his face was quickly overridden by confusion. "And… the talent show. How were you onstage as Becky and WordGirl at the same time?"

"I wasn't," she said. "I helped out your act between poems. That's why I kept disappearing, remember?"

"Oh…" Scoops furrowed his brow in concentration, trying to recall the events of that stressful day. "That's right, you _did_ keep disappearing. Gave me quite a scare each time I turned around and couldn't find you." He sat back down, notepad still forgotten on the control panel. "So, Tobey doesn't know your identity?"

Becky snorted. "Of course not."

"Does anyone else?"

"Nope. Which is why you have to keep this a – "

"So, you haven't told Violet?" Scoops interrupted, brow furrowing in a disapproving glare.

"Well…" She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "No, no I haven't."

"You should tell her, Becky." He sighed. "Heck, she should've been the first to know. You two have been best friends since… well, forever."

"I know, Scoops, I know," Becky said, suddenly defensive. "I've wanted to tell her for a long time, but every time I tried, I… I would get interrupted, or I couldn't bring myself to do it…" She glanced at her helmet, still lying unzipped on the control panel. "I will, though, someday."

"Okay," Scoops said, unconvinced. "But you should do it soon, so that she doesn't find out by accident. Finding out a secret this big about you from anywhere _besides_ you… well, that would hurt her a lot, and I don't want - I mean, I'm sure _you_ wouldn't want her to be hurt."

"Of course not," Becky said quietly. Uncomfortable with where the conversation had gone, she racked her brains, trying to think of something, _anything_ else to talk about. The topic that immediately sprang to mind was one she was even less willing to pursue than the current one - unfortunately, the words were already out of her mouth by the time she realized what she was saying. "Do you remember when you were talking about who you thought WordGirl could be?"

"Uh… which time?"

"That one time? When you - oh, never mind." It was too late now, she supposed - might as well just get it out there. "YousaidyouthoughtWordGirlwascute."

Scoops took a second to process what she had just awkwardly blurted out. "I… oh! Oh, right, I did say that, a while ago." He paused. "Well, nearly all of the kids in the city have had a celebrity crush on WordGirl at some point. That's what happens to superheroes." He shrugged and picked up his notepad again, oblivious of the crushed feelings of the girl in front of him.

Becky forced a laugh. "Right, I... I guess that's true."

"So…"

"So…?"

"So, my friend is WordGirl," Scoops said, echoing his statement from days before. He flipped through his notebook once more and sighed contentedly, then looked up and grinned at her. "Wow."


	2. Identity Crisis: Victoria

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind reviews, everyone! I really appreciated them. I'm not very good with responding, but I'll try to do better with that in the future.

I totally forgot to mention an update schedule - I don't have a set schedule, but I'll try not to go longer than a month without an update.

The third to last section takes place during 'There's no V in Team', though you don't need to go back and rewatch it before reading.

* * *

 _Do your best._

 _If you do that, Victoria, we will always be proud of you._

It had been a long, long time since she believed those words.

xxxxx

"Mother! Father!" Victoria called out eagerly, spotting her mother and father lounging out on the front porch. Braids bouncing, the six-year-old nearly skipped up the steps to reach her parents, breathing a bit heavily as she proudly held up three ribbons. "Look what I won today, I'm the best-est!"

Her parents sat up quickly when they heard her elated shouts, but their smiles fell as they saw her ribbons, two blue ones framing a red.

"Victoria," her mother started, "What is this?"

"My awards! I got the most out of anyone in my class," she replied with a self-satisfied smile. "There were only three cat - cate -"

"Categories," her father prompted.

"Categories, and I won every one!"

Her mother reached out a hand and brushed her fingers over the ribbons, then rested an index finger on the red one. "But if you won, what's this second-place ribbon doing with you?" she asked, disapproval written on her face.

"Well, I…" Victoria's arm drooped, fist clenching harder on the ribbons. "My art got second place because the paint got all smudged. But I still got an award for it, so I still won!"

"No, Victoria," her father said sternly. "That is second place. That is not the _best_. What is your name?"

"Victoria… Best," she added, at the look her parents gave her to continue.

"Exactly. You are a Best, and you must live up to that name. You come from a long line of Bests, after all, and when you're a Best..."

"You always triumph," her mother finished. She shook her head. "Second place is just unacceptable, dear."

"But I tried as hard as I -"

"No, Victoria," her father cut in. "You didn't try hard enough. You've disappointed us."

 _Disappointed_. A word she'd never had directed at her before, though she was very aware of its meaning.

Disappointed. She had done something wrong, she hadn't done enough, _she_ wasn't enough. She had let her parents down, her entire _family_ down. It was only one ribbon, yet now it was more than that - it was the beginning of a life of failure.

Upset by the thoughts that crowded her mind, her face began to burn as if the word had slapped her. "I'm sorry, Father, I really am," she said, sniffling as she blinked back sudden tears.

Her mother edged forward on her seat, reaching out to brush away a tear threatening to spill from Victoria's eye. "You should have kept your eyes on the prize," she said, her words growing slower and deliberate.

Victoria stared, transfixed, as her parents' eyes began to glow a dangerous red. Frozen in their gaze, the shame she felt dwindled and something stronger - determination - took its place. Energy gathered inside her and slowly spread through her veins, to her fingers and toes and then - her eyes, which suddenly felt hot. The world around her turned red, red like the ribbon, like the eyes of her parents.

"Eyes on the prize," she repeated softly.

Tomorrow, she would fix this.

She _needed_ to.

xxxxx

It was just a harmless habit, at first. See an award, try to win it. If that didn't work, steal it.

But soon, she found that she couldn't stop. Students, artists, sports champions found their awards mysteriously missing. A Nobel prize winner stopped in town to give a lecture and managed to misplace their medal - permanently. Meanwhile, her collection grew and grew, and so did her parents' approval of her.

She was living a lie, but some days, she managed to convince herself it was reality.

xxxxx

"There's nothing we can do about it now, so I think we should just forget about it and move on," Becky said, folding her arms and glaring at Victoria.

Victoria let out a strained laugh, pacing back and forth on the stage. "Forget it? Move on?" she echoed incredulously. "This was the _city Quiz Bowl championship!_ " Victoria gestured angrily at the audience, then the trophy behind her, to emphasize her point. "Oh, no, I can't let you forget what you did here." She stepped forward, raising a threatening finger at Becky's face. " _Never_."

Victoria angrily stalked off the stage, leaving her 'teammate' in the humiliating spotlight. She shoved the auditorium doors open and blinked angrily at the sudden light surrounding her. The bright sun seemed mocking as she made her way home, the glittering of rocks in the sidewalk a rude reminder of the trophy she was leaving behind. The trophy which, if it wasn't for Becky Botsford, would belong to _her_ right now.

Soon her house stood before her, perfect and gleaming and the very last place on Earth she wanted to be. She knew hiding from consequences would only delay the inevitable, though, so she took a deep breath before reaching for the doorknob and turning.

The door swung open. Her parents looked up at the sound and, upon seeing her, immediately stood and moved to stand side-by-side in the doorway, wearing expectant smiles.

"Congratulations!" her father said, before she had a chance to cross the threshold.

"We're so proud of you," her mother chimed in. "The city Quiz Bowl!"

"We wish we could've been there to see you triumph, Victoria."

"Thanks, but don't worry about it," Victoria said, letting out a nervous chuckle. "It was just like any other triumph of mine, since it was a triumph and all. Because I _totally_ won today. But it's been a long day, so if I could just -" She tried to slip past her parents but they stepped forward, leaving no gap for her to escape through.

Her mother looked her up and down. "Where's your trophy, dear?"

"Right! The trophy." At the mention of the award, her fists clenched as she remembered the giant, gleaming, golden trophy which had been wrenched from her grasp.

"I… uh… don't have it - yet!" she finished hurriedly as her parents began to frown. "I didn't take it home because… it was too big!" She spread her arms wide to demonstrate its size. "We need to clear out a special place for it, and I'll bring it home tomorrow."

"What a smart idea!" her mother said, beaming at her. Her parents finally stepped aside, giving her a clear view of her brother dutifully practicing piano, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of awards.

"Of course she would have such a smart idea, she's the best," her father replied, pride written on his face.

"She certainly is."

Victoria clenched her fists to stop them from shaking at the approval in their voices she didn't deserve. "Yep, that's me. The best," she said, darting through the opening. "I'm going to practice my recorder now." She cast a weak smile at them before turning away and heading to her room.

Alone with only her thoughts and her music, Victoria was finally able to concentrate. She had a small window of opportunity tomorrow to steal the trophy, and to pull off a heist with such a large target, her plan would need to be _perfect_.

xxxxx

Standing on the doorstep of her home, Victoria's palms turned sweaty as she felt deja vu roll over her. She'd open the door, and her parents would find out, and this time she couldn't cover up her mistake.

They stared at her stonily as she explained how she had set up a do-over, how the question had been unfairly tossed out, how WordGirl had intervened before she could take the trophy with her. She braced for a lecture as she finished and they didn't disappoint, their criticisms closing in around her and condemning her to a life of shame if this continued. She let them finish, then desperately promised that next time she would triumph. Satisfied, they nodded at her and left her to her thoughts.

Next time. There was _always_ a next time. The next contest, the next award, the next success. There was no end to it, no finish line, no point at which they were satisfied. She set world records, and they asked why she hadn't set more.

Weeks, months, years passed with little change; if anything, her parents worsened. When her brother decided that he didn't care about being the best anymore, their attention, once split between the two of them, became focused solely on her. She now needed to compensate for her brother's shortcomings, and that meant losing - even to WordGirl - was out of the question.

But once in a while she'd lose, and WordGirl would intervene, and she'd slip through the back door and hide, or conjure up a story about how the trophy was destroyed, or fake a certificate, or present an old trophy as a new one. She began to feel as if their threatening eyes were aimed at her at all times, yet the anxiety which filled her was nothing compared to how worthless, how powerless she knew they could, they _would_ make her feel if they found out about her failures.

Her parents bought her lies, and she bought herself time.

xxxxx

It wasn't even her own fault, really. If anyone was to blame for this, it was Becky.

 _Beckface_ , she silently spat while her beaming classmate made her way to the front of the classroom to accept her award from the teacher, as if a petty name-calling could undo Victoria's mistakes.

Two days prior to the contest deadline, Becky had caught Victoria using books from the public library as - well, she preferred the words 'artistic inspiration' - for the high school's writing contest. And Becky, acting like the little hero she fancied herself to be, had reported her to the judges and gotten Victoria disqualified from the contest due to plagiarism.

(Plagiarism? More like 'using her resources wisely'. Becky was just jealous that she hadn't thought of it first.)

There was nothing Victoria could do about regaining entry to the competition; after all, she couldn't just hypnotize her teachers into permanently forgetting about her disqualification. She'd tried - three times, in fact - but eventually she had to face the fact that her music could entrance people, sometimes even trick them, but not permanently remove memories.

She'd done everything she could, which wasn't much. Becky caught her attempting to sabotage all the entries, so instead she convinced her parents that the contest had been delayed. It was a successful short-term solution, but by tomorrow her parents would read about the contest in the paper, and if she didn't bring an award back home, then -

 _Disappointed. Failure._

The words, though left unsaid, pierced through her mind and echoed loudly, threatening to drown out everything around her. The teacher's words seemed muffled as the words surrounded her, teasing and taunting and spitting harsh truth.

 _Failure. Like you've always been. Imperfect, mediocre, worthless._

The harsh dismissal bell startled her, scattering the words away. (Had her entire last period really passed already? She hadn't paid attention to more than a minute of it.) She sat for a moment, dazed as her mind pulled itself back together.

As if a switch inside her had been turned on, Victoria shot to her feet, chair scraping harshly on tile as it was shoved back. She turned to look for the girl responsible for this, who was calmly packing up her things.

" _You_."

Becky glanced up from her bag, eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Me?"

"This is all _your fault_ ," she seethed, crossing over to Becky's desk in a few long strides. She slammed her hands on the desk and leaned forward, attempting to intimidate the girl. It worked on classmates, teachers, even board members…

Becky dropped the bag and sat up, but didn't shrink under Victoria's glare.

"I… what's my fault?" she asked, as if she truly thought she was _innocent_.

"You took away my rightful victory!" Victoria seethed, barely able to keep her anger in check - or was it panic? "If it wasn't for you, I would've won that contest. Hand over the certificate before I -"

"No!" Becky retorted, dropping a protective hand over her bag. "I earned it, fair and square."

"Yeah, if you call disqualifying me being fair."

"You were cheating!"

"I was _winning_. Now, give me my certificate!" She dropped down suddenly, reaching for the backpack, but Becky pulled it away with an inhuman burst of speed. Victoria grunted in frustration and pushed herself back up, using the desk as support.

Hugging the bag to herself, Becky gaped at Victoria. " _Your_ certificate? Are you seriously -"

"So you admit it!" Victoria let out a harsh laugh, triumphant yet bordering on hysterical.

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Becky asked incredulously, volume growing to match her own. "Victoria, you _can't_ be the best at everything. You think you can, but -"

"You're wrong!" Victoria shouted, slamming her fist onto the desk. She felt the anger, the energy inside her spread towards her eyes, saw red creep into the corners of her vision. " _You_ wouldn't understand. I'm the best - I _have_ to be."

The vigor she'd found suddenly abandoned her, the world turning almost blue in the abrupt absence of red. She leaned onto the desk for support, empty and exhausted from the worries which had plagued her for the past hour, for her entire life. "You... you could never understand. Without my trophies, my triumphs, my success - I am _nothing_."

Saying it aloud made it final, made it _real_.

A sudden sob escaped her, a tear slipped from her eye and splattered on her classmate's homework, leaving an ugly damp splotch. "If I'm not the best, then I'm not _a_ Best, and I - I -"

The world blurred around her. Suddenly there were gentle hands guiding her to something solid. Her knees buckled and she (thankfully) collapsed onto a seat.

"I can't face my parents, not without that award," she mumbled, staring down at her lap. "They're going to find out, and I can't let that happen."

A silent moment passed. "You're right," Becky said quietly. "I can't understand what it's like, for you." She paused. "But I do know how it feels to believe all your self-worth comes from your achievements, and Victoria…"

"It _does_ , though."

"No, it doesn't. Look - maybe you're not the best at some things, but that's okay."

"But it's not." Victoria looked up at her classmate through red-rimmed eyes. "I'm supposed to be perfect."

"Nobody can be perfect."

"I can, though! I'm just not trying hard enough -"

" _Nobody_ , Victoria." Becky kneeled down to her eye level and placed a hesitant, comforting hand on her shoulder. "You've accomplished so many amazing things in your life so far, and you need to _celebrate_ those things, not focus on what you've lost."

"But my parents -"

"Are wrong about you," Becky said firmly.

Victoria let her statement sink in slowly. Her parents… wrong? After all this time, everything she knew about who she was, who she'd been _told_ she was... wrong? There was freedom in that statement, if she could get herself to believe it, but...

She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away for a later time. "I still have to face them, and they'll be angry."

"They need to face reality."

"They refuse to! They still think I could be better than _WordGirl_ if I just tried! I did try, years ago -"

"I remember," Becky muttered.

"- and I failed! And I didn't hear the end of it for _months_. They still bring her up, sometimes." She put on a mocking voice. "' _WordGirl was named best superhero of the decade. If only our daughter could be as perfect as she was._ ' And then they give me that - that _look_ , and I just feel _worthless_."

Becky gave her a strange look. "Your parents think WordGirl's perfect?"

Victoria sniffled. "Yeah."

Her classmate let out a snort. "They're farther out of touch with reality than I thought."

"What?"

"WordGirl makes mistakes all the time." Becky shrugged. "She's pretty much invincible, yes, but that doesn't mean she's _flawless_."

Victoria stared past her into space, trying to fit Becky's words into what she'd accepted as truth for so long. She wanted to, she really did, but she just... couldn't.

Finally, she swallowed and moved to stand up. Becky pushed herself to her feet quickly, backing up to give her space. "It doesn't matter," Victoria said quietly. "If WordGirl herself told them that, they'd just find someone else to compare me to. They'll never change."

Becky looked at her sadly. "Victoria -"

"I need to get home," she interrupted. Victoria slung her bag over her shoulder and headed towards the door.

"Victoria, wait," her classmate called out. She hesitated, then turned around to face Becky one more time. To her surprise, her classmate was holding out the certificate.

Victoria stared at her. "What are you doing?"

Becky grinned. "If you say I'm the best at writing, just this once, I'll let you take this home with you."

"Ugh, no way am I..." She paused. "You will?"

Becky nodded.

She groaned. "Fine, I'll do it. You... are the..." Victoria fidgeted, staring at the certificate. She opened her mouth, closed it, sighed in defeat, opened it again. " _Bestatwriting_." She reached out and quickly pulled the paper from Becky's grasp, as if it would disappear at any second.

"Why, thanks, Victoria," Becky said teasingly. "That's _so_ nice of you."

Victoria rolled her eyes and turned away, stuffing the paper into her bag. She took two steps and then stopped again and looked back. "None of this happened."

"Of course," Becky replied, still wearing half a smirk.

Victoria moved to turn back towards the door, but paused. "And, uh... thanks for the talk," she said, shooting her classmate a tentative smile. "You know, I'm the best at helping people, but... you're pretty good, too."

* * *

Sorry for that, I promise the next chapter's gonna be all fluff.


	3. Prompt: Snowball Fight

First non-identity-related chapter! This one is a Tobecky prompt I got a couple months ago on tumblr (thanks, misty-gold!). It's set in high school, post-identity reveal and character development and stuff.

(I actually had a song I listened to while writing this one! I should totally do it more often because it really helps. In case anyone's curious, it was 'Fearless' by Taylor Swift.)

Prompt: "Don't you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!"

* * *

"Flying is cheating!" Tobey grumbled at the sky as he stomped through well-trampled snow. "I know you've got a snowball, don't you _dare_ throw tha-"

A glittering orb soared silently through the air and exploded on the side of his head, stopping him mid-sentence. He swore in surprise, dropping his own snowball and stumbling a bit away from the blow. He whipped off his glasses, hastily wiped the snow off the lenses, and shoved them back on.

Bending down to scoop up a fresh handful of snow, Tobey tilted his head back up towards the sky. "Where are you…" he muttered as he stood back up, squinting into the light and pressing the powder into a rough sphere between his gloves.

 _Crunch._

Instinct made him whip around and blindly aim the icy projectile at the source of the noise. Once his initial panic subsided, his mind registered the scene before him: his girlfriend stood only a few feet away, poised to attack but frozen in what he assumed was shock. (Her expression was hard to make out from under the snow covering her face.)

"I'm sorry!" he burst out, taking a few steps forward. "I didn't mean to - I was startled -"

Becky blinked once, twice, then dissolved into laughter as she relaxed her throwing arm and wiped some snow off her face with her opposite hand. He cracked a smile at her reaction and reached out to brush some more of the powder from her hair and coat.

"Well, _that_ was unanticipated," she said, still grinning widely. "I honestly never thought you'd manage it."

He couldn't help the smirk that spread on his face. "I'm full of surprises, you know."

Becky mirrored his smug expression, taking a step closer so their breaths visibly mingled in the chilly air. "Uh-huh," she said in mock skepticism. "Like what, robot boy?"

"Well…" he breathed, swaying towards her. Before he moved to close the gap, his eyes flicked up from her lips to meet her gaze. The snowflakes caught in her eyelashes sparkled as she raised one arm so she could position her hand behind his head -

\- And press something wet and oh, so _cold_ against the back of his neck. He let out a cry of shock, flailing his arms in an attempt to dig the snow out from under the collar of his coat.

By the time he recovered from the sneak attack, Becky was already a safe twenty feet away, fresh snowball in hand and amusement written all over her face. "You were saying?" she called out.

Tobey huffed in frustration. "So _this_ is how it's going to be?" he replied, reaching for the remote stuffed safely in his coat pocket.

Becky let out a laugh - that adorable, _infuriating_ laugh of hers - and slid her feet apart slightly, moving into her battle stance. "Bring it on."

* * *

(Note: it's a robot built specifically for snowball fights, not for destruction or anything, don't worry. I tried to fit the detail in but couldn't get it into such a short story easily :/)


	4. Prompt: Jealousy

A/N: Lately I've been working on a few different Tobecky oneshots for a tumblr contest. This is the first one I've completed, and hopefully it won't be the last. It's kinda identity-related, but I didn't label it as such because I have something different in mind for Becky's actual 'identity crisis' chapter.

Set sometime in the future, probably early high school. Anyone else find math class the perfect time to zone out and reflect on your life? No? Anyway...

* * *

Becky watched her classmate fiddle with something under his desk out of the corner of her eye. Occasionally she caught flashes of something metal, but it was small enough that she couldn't make heads or tails of the device.

It wasn't unusual for Tobey to be working on something completely unrelated to the class he was currently in, but normally that work consisted of various diagrams of robots drawn up carefully in his notebook. Today, though, everything on his desk sat completely untouched - and though lunch was only a class and a half away, she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

"What's that?" she whispered to him, turning her head carefully and positioning her hand on her cheek so the teacher wouldn't see her mouth moving.

He didn't respond.

Frowning, Becky slid a pencil from her desk and, when the teacher had turned towards the board to finish writing an equation, poked his shoulder with it. He jumped and clasped his hands protectively around the device, finally looking up at her with an expression somewhere between quizzical and annoyed.

She repeated her inquiry, and he lifted his top hand to reveal a small half-finished sphere, silver with inactive multi-colored lights set around a screen and delicate wires spilling out the opposite side. She stared at it blankly.

"Scans for villain devices active in the city," he whispered, before she could open her mouth to ask. "It's a surprise gift for WordGirl."

The corners of his mouth pulled up into a tender smile as he spoke her alter ego's name. She felt something inside her clench but tried to ignore it, forcing a smile and nod before turning back to the lesson at hand.

Her thoughts didn't shift quite as easily as her gaze.

WordGirl would love it, of course. WordGirl would probably protest and tell him that he didn't need to give her gifts all the time, and smile when he'd declare that she was more than worth it, and laugh when a quick kiss planted on his cheek turned him into a blushing, stuttering mess.

But Becky was only allowed to stare longingly at the back of his head, to listen to him gush on and on about WordGirl at lunch after each day the heroine spent time with him, to let him stare right through her as he contemplated WordGirl's true identity (because as he'd casually commented one day, he'd known her too long to even consider that it could've been her the entire time).

Someone's calculator clattered to the floor. Eugene bent over awkwardly to retrieve it, hunching over in embarrassment as the eyes of the entire class were drawn to him. The teacher continued as if the disruption hadn't happened, messily erasing the chalkboard and writing 'Problem 39' at the top before launching into an explanation of the problem's setup. Becky copied the title down absentmindedly, already drifting back into thought.

She was used to this divide. It had been necessary since the beginning of her career as a superhero - since she had come home from her first day publicly fighting crime to find that her brother had declared himself the president of a fanclub dedicated to her, since Violet had made her promise that they would always tell each other the truth right before she bolted out of the room with a blatant lie for an excuse to take care of a robbery, since Scoops had decided his ultimate goal was to reveal her identity and publish the story for the entire city to read.

She had known many of the risks since day one, but only learned the worst consequences of uniting those two sides of her life later on. Three of the most important people in her life had found out the truth at some point and had always, at first, been less than understanding. Though years had passed since she'd last revealed her identity to someone, the fear that the next person to find out would never forgive her had not dulled with time.

It was better this way, she mused. Maybe it wasn't easy, but she'd had years of practice avoiding the guilt that gnawed at her whenever she was forced to lie.

Another emotion, though, was harder to ignore.

It was the feeling she got when she watched her brother cheer on WordGirl during the evening news and point out how much cooler the heroine was than his sister could ever be, when someone joked that she was 'almost as good with words as WordGirl herself'. It was the feeling she got while walking past an oblivious crowd of adoring fans waiting to meet WordGirl, or when she had to sit by and listen to the boy she had accidentally fallen for wax poetic about a version of her that sometimes seemed too good to be true.

It was a strange feeling, being jealous of herself.


End file.
